


Humans Die But Legends Survive

by AnonymousObsesser



Series: Humans Die But Legends Survive [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: AND His Gun, Demigods, Don't be confused, F/M, Gen, Len Has "Minor Ice Powers", M/M, Reincarnation, Trojan War, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 17:14:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8022349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousObsesser/pseuds/AnonymousObsesser
Summary: Barry had known Len for millennia...
Nothing has changed, it seems.





	Humans Die But Legends Survive

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Cold Flash Big Bang. Originally posted September 12th.
> 
> I want to thank my beta, gaberoothekangaroo on tumblr. Also, my artists, kickingshoes. These guys are the best!!!!! Go cheek them out!!! I never would have finished this without these guys!!!
> 
> Happy reading!

It was the laugh that triggered it.

That stupid laugh. It hadn’t changed in millennia, and he still recognized it even after death. Even after…

Barry had known for _months._ He's known about his past life for _months_ and he hasn't _told_ anyone. He's been searching. Searching for...for _him._ Him.

And here he was, laughing. That stupid laugh--not even a laugh, just...like a chuckle. Like he was mocking everyone and everything just for _existing._

How he hadn't seen it before was a mystery. They'd clashed before, after he recognized his reincarnation as what it was. He'd known about it, but he'd ignored the tingling as a symptom of frostbite. And it had gone away when Barry failed to catch him.

He hadn't really been _seeing_ him. He'd been looking, watching. But now he _saw._ He saw it as he watched Leonard Snart laugh as he laid supine on the pavement. He saw the smirk, the glimmer in his eye visible even through the goggles.

He _saw._

And then he _ran._

* * *

The sound of swords clashing could be heard for miles around them. Their own swords were merely drawn, ready to attack, as the two stared each other down. Moments before, one had had his sword at the other's throat.

But that had changed with a word. Or, more specifically, a name.

"Teucer?"

Blue eyes had widened as they looked down upon green. The fog of battle lifted from the pair briefly, allowing them to see each as they were. The elder's eyes slowly narrowed, recognizing the thin body before him.

"Echion." His face twisted in a cruel grin as he raised his sword once more. "Where is your little brother? I would not have expected you to let him leave your side--not after that boar."

Echion's face flushed as he scowled. Quick as a wink, he swung his sword, the metal crashing brutally against Teucer's hilt, causing the older man to lose his grip. The bronze sword clattered to the ground as the younger gripped the other by his shield, pushing him to the ground.

"Do not speak of him," he grit out, his breath coming in pants. "I do not wish to hear another word of him from your lips."

"So, you have lost him," Teucer said quietly. "I am sorry for your pain. Amerile has been lost, as well."

"Your sister never could look before she leapt."

"Neither could you," the man snarled. "Or your brother, for that matter."

The tip of Echion's blade dug into the flesh at the base of his neck, and he winced.

"Quite the coincidence we have here, wouldn't you say, Teucer? I _had_ been hoping to see you again, and here we are. Perhaps the Fates are looking kindly on me today."

"You do not truly believe that, do you, Echion?" His smirk returned. Keeping the smaller man's attention on him, his hand reached out, searching for his shield. "If anything, I'd think the cosmos were _against_ you. If they exist at all."

Echion glared. "I am the son of Hermes. The Fates are my dear aunts. They weave with our strings of life, decide when and how we die. It would do you well, Teucer, to respect them."

"Oh, I do." His hand connected with leather and metal. "You are not the only godling here, my love."

"You can not--" The shield connected with his unprotected back, knocking him forward. His helmet popped off, rolling away, and Teucer brought the shield down across his skull.

Echion went limp--not dead, just unconscious.

Teucer turned him over, working his armor off of him. Supplies are supplies, after all, no matter how or from whom you get them.

As he stood, he accidentally glanced back down at the unconscious boy. And he really was just a boy.

Teucer had met him many years ago, when he was sailing with his gang of adventurous soldiers. He'd been approaching twenty then--he was nearly thirty now. Echion, though...he was merely fifteen, his brother a year younger. The pair had been so happy, so optimistic, when they'd come to his gates to ask for shelter. He'd thought the two would need the protection of their friends.

He'd taken them for weak--it was the wrong choice. After seeing them in battle--the way Echion moved, so swiftly, as if he were merely a mirage moving through the air, and the strength of Eurytus, the way he batted the boar's attacks away without even seeming to touch it, not unlike the way a skilled musician hardly touches the strings of a lyre--well, Teucer had always been attracted to strength. And whatever he wanted, he got. He took an immediately liking to Echion. His sister had chosen Eurytus as a husband. It was unorthodox--usually the man was older, as well as the ruler. But Eurytus had taken to following his wife's lead in the span of months, and she'd always liked younger men. She'd been seventeen.

And then they'd left, never to return. Not even a letter goodbye, not a single message to tell Amerile that her husband was alive and well, that he'd healed after receiving massive trauma in their fight with the boar. Nothing.

But they'd coped--Teucer had taken lover after lover, replacing the ghost of touch he felt linger from Echion with the true touch of a new man or woman, sometimes a new one each night. Eventually, he'd lost the sense memory. Amerile had retreated to her library, burying herself in knowledge and hardly coming out for a year. And she forgot, and moved on, and flirted with the schoolboys that were recruited for labor in the castle.

But they'd been fooling themselves.

And now, gazing at the supine body before him--so thin, he was always so thin you could see his bones, the little knobs where they were held together--watching as the boy's chest rose and fell, as his eyelashes fluttered delicately and his mouth slowly fell open into an _oh_ shape and the sweat glistened on his body in the light of the setting sun, matting his short hair to his head in a helmet shape...

Now, Teucer knew. He knew the lies he'd told. The lies Amerile had told, before her life was taken in vengeance for a simple wrong.

He sighed, slumping back to his knees beside the man. Slowly, he settled the straps of his armor back around the boy, then hoisted him up into his arms. Echion was much too light. Like all soldiers, he had muscle, of course, but even so...The boy relied on swiftness over true brute strength, and his body mass reflected it. Hades, even his _bones_ reflected it, light and thin rather than thick and heavy like most. Oftentimes, years ago, Teucer had feared breaking him if he held too tightly, pushed too hard. But only for a while, for Echion soon convinced him of his durability.

The blue-eyed man elected to leave the helmet behind in the interest of deception.

He very nearly started to his home before remembering that, inside the walls, any home could be invaded, anyone killed. Instead, he redirected his steps to outside the walls, where he pulled up the cellar door. Beneath it lie intricate paths of tunnels, a place you could get lost in if you didn't know where you were going. If you even found the door, that is--it was protected by magic, so that only Trojan demigods might see it, and only if they were looking.

Reaching the spot he had carved out for himself, he set Echion on the bed gently, tugging his armor off yet again. The area was secluded, located as close to the back of the caves as possible and blocked from the other rooms by heavy curtains.

Teucer dragged his water bucket over to the bed, wetting a rag and wringing it out a little. He pressed the cool cloth to the boy's head, where a bump was forming. It wasn't too bad, so he wasn't really worried. Echion would probably wake up any moment, and then Teucer could guide him outside and never need to see him again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well...Things don't always go according to plan, do they?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The red mask slowly peeled back to reveal boyish looks and an emerald green glare.

His own hood flipped back, he startled at the barrage of memories swarming him.

In a second, he recovered. Smirked. "Well, well, _Barry Allen_." The boy--man--before him shrunk back, leaning against a tree. "Never thought I'd run into you again. Let alone here."

"You..." the green-eyed one stuttered. "How..."

"Much in the same way as you, I'd imagine. Isles of the Blessed get a little too comfy for you, decided to come join the living again?"

"I came for you," he blurted. His chest expanded with a deep breath, and his lips quirked in a smile as he pushed off from the tree behind him. "Teucer..."

"Don't call me that," the older man snapped. "My name's Snart."

Barry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. _Leonard Snart."_ His gloved fingers swept through his hair, mussing it. "Honestly, and I thought the _Greek_ names were bad."

"Don't think you've got room to talk, _Bartholomew."_

Barry winced. "Gee, Len. Low blow."

"Len?"

"Would you prefer Lenny? Your sister sure seems to prefer it."

_"_ Amerile _\--Lisa_ can call me whatever she wants. It was my fault the first time, this time I'll do whatever I have to to keep her by my side."

Blue eyes softened.

"Len is fine."

Barry's eyes lit up in the dark.

He stepped closer, his smile bittersweet. "Funny, how you and your sister were born again together...And I didn't get any siblings this time. Just a dead mother and a father in jail."

"Does--"

"They don't know, no." He kicked the ground, ashamed. "It wasn't exactly their choice to come back...and something is wrong with Almara's dad."

"He left before I did..."

"I know. I'm worried, but I can't do anything about it. You _know_ we're not supposed to know."

"...Yeah."

"...Yeah."

Both men took a simultaneous step toward each other.

"Why did--"

"Did you--"

Both smiled.

Barry waved, and Len cleared his throat. "We should get coffee or something. Talk." Without him even thinking about it, his hand landed on the younger's hip.

The brunette's head bobbed as a flush crept across his cheeks. "Okay." He paused, his own hands landing on Len’s chest. "I should tell you about Iris."

"Your...friend? Sister?"

"Both," Barry hummed. "I was in love with her for a long time...before."

"...Yeah. I think I missed a few things."

"Me, too," he replied, nuzzling his face into the man's neck. "Any powers this time?"

"Minor ice powers. Not anything spectacular. I mostly rely on my gun, now."

"Mm...We're gonna have to talk about that."

"Not now. Just...Not now. Things will come."

"Don't die on me this time, okay?"

"Mm-hmmm. No promises, Scarlet.”


End file.
